Oceans Of Emma

Today was different from the rest. The pouring rain soaked through my white shoes. My socks squished with every desperate step I took. Walking became a hardship and an obligation to my life if I wanted to go anywhere. If I could, I would lay in the wet grass. The cool touch of raindrops bathing my skin making goosebumps erupt across it. My black dress clings to my body much like my heart clings to the torment and personal hell my mind and now my body is going through. The thought becomes sweeter with every step that I take. How easy would it be to lay down and let the earth consume me; the same way my mother had let it consume her. She let the world’s pain engulf her in a whirl wind that even she couldn’t find where up was. Now, she’s spread out in the form of dust across the rapidly flowing river. She always loved nature. I wonder if she ever thought she would become a part of it. I came here for a purpose. After years of weaning into my grief, I thought that it would be easy to reunite my mother with the earth. However, my naivety would be one of the many things that would eat away at my heart. 

Since my mothers death, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that someone or something is after me. Something that wants me to know it’s there but just be out of reach. A cloud of worry relentlessly settles on my shoulders whenever I go into my own house. Like eyes watch me as soon as my foot passes the threshold of my home. A chilling cold slowly invades my veins, sending a shock through me. It feels as if death takes a slow step right through me. I’ve convinced myself that my mother’s ghost still inhabits this house, because everytime I try to convince myself of that, my shadow grows lighter and my bones colder. The glacial chill reverberates through my veins like ice flowing harshly down a river. 

I recently moved to this house with my mother and I had quickly learned to call it home. My mom was my home, it didn’t matter where we were, as long as we had each other. Now, my house just feels like the place where I eat and sleep. She was my home, my church and my sanctuary. Without her, our house is cold, dark and only left with the echoing laughter that at a time resided within these walls. A place that I was able to call safe.